The deeper they ventured, the heavier the air became. It wasn't just the coldness of the cave—it was the weight of something old. Something forgotten.
Alex's status window kept flickering, feeding him cryptic messages.
[ WARNING: AREA DISTORTED ]
[ Residual energy detected… ]
[ Memories of the fallen linger. ]
He didn't like that.
At all.
Frenchie shone a flashlight ahead. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the damp, rocky walls. Water dripped from the ceiling, creating eerie echoes that made the whole place feel... alive.
"Alright," Butcher muttered. "This place is creepy as f***."
"Understatement of the year," Hughie mumbled.
Deadpool, completely unbothered, skipped ahead. "Relax, guys! It's just a cave! What's the worst that—"
His foot hit something.
Something hard.
Something that clattered.
The group froze.
Deadpool looked down.
And stared.
"...Oh. Well, sh**."
The Forgotten Soldiers
Bones.
A pile of bones.
They were scattered along the cave floor, half-buried in dust and dirt. Some were cracked, others still half-wrapped in the tattered remains of British military uniforms.
And beside them?
Old, rusted rifles.
Hughie felt his stomach turn. "Jesus..."
Frenchie crouched down, carefully moving some of the dirt. "These uniforms... these are from the 1850s."
Raju stepped forward, his usual cheerful tone gone.
"They were the ones who got lost," he murmured. "The British soldiers who came into these caves… looking for rebels. They never came back."
Butcher frowned. "Why the hell didn't they just turn around?"
Raju met his gaze. "I told you, my friend… the caves move."
Silence.
Deadpool, now sitting on a rock, looked deeply amused.
"Sooo… lemme get this straight." He pointed at the bones. "These poor bastards walked in here, got lost, ran out of snacks, and just died?"
Raju shrugged. "Something like that."
Deadpool nodded. "Sucks to suck."
Alex, ignoring Deadpool's commentary, focused on the rifles.
He reached down, brushing dust off one of them. Despite the rust and age, the structure was mostly intact. The wood was worn, the metal corroded, but it still held its shape.
A Brown Bess musket. Standard-issue for British soldiers in the 1850s.
And yet…
He felt something.
A pulse. A flicker of energy beneath his fingers.
His status window reacted immediately.
[ Residual energy detected. ]
[ Historical artifact infused with lingering will. ]
Alex's eyes narrowed. "This isn't just a normal cave."
Frenchie smirked. "Well, no sh**."
Deadpool sighed dramatically. "Sooo, are we just gonna stand here with a bunch of dead guys, or are we moving deeper into the clearly haunted murder cave?"
Alex exhaled.
They had no choice.
They had come here for a reason.
And if this was only the beginning…
The real nightmare was waiting deeper inside.